[say]"Just down here."[/say]

Leaning over the bow, Remi glances over his shoulder to ensure that Tal heard him, before gesturing with one hand as well. From the height the Peregrine flew, the Greatwood was a tangle of dying purple leaves and twisting black-ish vines that seemed to writhe and slither with an almost predictable beat. Like a pulse.

Grimacing unhappily, Remi gave his shoulders a roll as large wings sprouted from them. The wings of a pixiu were not as large as a manticore, but he could still get the job done with them, albeit with a bit more effort. Stepping off the side of the little skyship, Remi tried to beat her descent just in case there were any nasty bits flora that would hinder her landing in any way.

Leafchange had clothed the Glade in brilliant reds, golds, and oranges, and as the leaves fell they made more space for rays of late afternoon sunshine to pierce through the canopy. They shone like spotlights upon the last of the season's flowers and pale glowstones below. Crickets chirped and bees hummed with the frantic energy of knowing their time was short, seeking mates and food and dodging birds who were doing the same, their brilliant songs echoed throughout the idyllic area and its last joyous celebration of life before Deepfrost's slumber fell over it.

It made the Void Tangleweed huddled in the shadow of an ancient oak even more unsettlingly blasphemous, its tendril-wreathed branches writhing gently as it digested its latest meal. Around it there was a circle of silence that no insect or animal dared to break, but the rustle of its branches as it occasionally shifted and constricted seemed to carry across the short distance between it and the man who crouched nearby atop a glowstone, scowling at it.

Tal was wearing a heavy leather coat and gauntlets; not against the nip in the air - which was pronounced this afternoon - but against the task ahead of him. He gripped a small, glittering star currently suspended from a thin, tough chain in one gloved hand. The other rested on his knee as he measured the distance between him and the Void-shrouded plant and then measured it again, shifting uneasily. A pale dragon, burly and large for a companion, perched in the branches of the oak tree, looking down at the Tangleweed with pupils contracted to mere slits of dislike. A constant, quiet rumble emerged from her chest as two thin trails of smoke emerged from her nostrils, evidence of the internal fires that were only barely leashed for the moment.

Open!

[say]"Since you're back,"[/say] Danta is saying conversationally to Edmund over his shoulder, as they grow nearer to the tangle and thicket of general badness that (apparently) is The Labyrinth, [say]"I figured you could help me check this place out. The Grounds is always so much bigger than I expect it to be."[/say]

Just when he thinks he's gotten to grips with the likes of the Inner Quarter and Jack Tar Landing and all the landmarks in between, here's this fuckin' thing.

[say]"What made you eventually decide to join us here for good?"[/say] he continues, clearly in high spirits despite the spookily-bookily things he's heard about this place. If they get lost, whatever - he's got a gore crow shift for a reason, right?

And it's not as though he hasn't told anyone where they're going, though quite when Kiada will spot the post it he's stuck to one of the bottles behind the bar is anyone's guess.

He'd gotten Maea's missive about the planned experiments, and while he hadn't been wild about it he also hadn't forgotten his promise to help. Shit was getting out of hand, and the recent mental intrusions by that creepy fucking voice were doing nothing to ease his sense of trepidation over the current state of affairs.

He'd had plenty of deliveries to bring to the Grounds on this trip, though, so it had worked out for him to be here at the right time. After running all over the town and part of the Brambles to get the packages where they needed to go he'd finally found his way to the quiet peace of this little lake and dropped down beside it for a short break. Boreal, his dragon, soared contentedly high in the sky overhead, her pale form blocky and buff even at the distance she was currently at.

As for the courier? He had brown skin and dark, shaggy hair held out of his pale eyes with a strip of old leather. He was dressed in serviceable clothes of tough fabric, hardly new but clean enough, though perhaps a bit light for the Leafchange chill in the air. Not that he seemed to notice as he gazed morosely out over the Oasis, lost in thought as he chewed on a stem of grass, sucking the sweet juice from the root. Somewhat at odds with his other clothes was a cuff of glittering stone around his wrist and a dapper vest speckled in black and white that he wore over his shirt. A pair of goggles with lenses of smoked glass rested on his head, ready to be tugged down over his eyes to shield them from wind or glare at a moment's notice.

With a sigh he finally spat out the grass and rummaged around in the Bag at his side, pulling out a capped mug and a wrapped sandwich to munch on while the moment of peace lasted.

Thalassa

Dawn was perhaps too early to expect cheerful demeanor from anyone. The air held a chill bite that made for an uncomfortable experience for the Ancient participants, while a lingering mist lent a damp to the fallow woodland that the Halovians might dislike in turn. And if someone despite it all found themself content with weather and time, location and the amassed company in general, their reason for gathering was serious enough to somber the mood all on its own.

Maea Valair was not smiling as she took count of those gathered. It was a motley assortment, some invited for their skills while others had volunteered; all would no doubt prove essential to completing this endeavor in a safe way. While she very much desired answers, the safety of everyone would take priority.

She had brought them outside the entrance to the Spire and watched as assistants handed out individual bags of protective gear, writing tools and a single plain dagger to each guest. Behind her were crates and cages filled with creatures that emitted a nasty aura tasting faintly of purple, and standing so close to them left a sour burn in the back of her throat – doubtlessly also negatively impacting the contingent of armed soldiers, who watched the crates like hawks.
On the other side of the tower another set of creature crates waited, untainted, likewise watched over by guards who nevertheless looked like they would rather be anywhere else.

She didn't blame them.

[say]"Thank you all for coming,"[/say] she began simply, as the assistant stepped back. [say]"I am Maea Valair, Loreseeker and Ambassador of this region. Today we are going to perform a series of experiments in the hope of learning more about the Void infestation. While there is much we don't know, in this instance I want to focus on three questions.

"One; How does the infection spread?
Two, How fast does it spread,
And three, Do different types of magic have any noticeable effect on the infected creatures?

"Before we begin, please be aware that we will be handling infected specimen here today. They are dangerous. Make sure to protect yourselves at all times, wear the gear you have been given, and keep a close eye on one another to make sure no one is hurt. Should anything at all happen that derail this experiment and you don't feel confident in your ability to defend yourself, I ask that you immediately ensure your own safety and retreat into the first floor of the Spire. Should any Void infested creature escape it will be immediately killed; if the situation becomes unmanageable I will authorize the use of the Spire's weapon, as a member of the Hollowed Grounds council, to ensure the safety of everyone present."[/say]  

Pausing for a moment to catch her breath, Maea steeled herself; it was going to be a long and tense day. Speaking in front of so many made her nervous, and her face moved stiffly from the effort of keeping her concerns from showing through.

[say]"Before we begin, please introduce yourself and let everyone know what your abilities are, if you posess any. If you have any questions, now is also the time to ask. I shall begin;

"I am, as I said, Maea. I have a Molten Tiger shift, upgraded Fire magic and basic Disintegration magic. I will function as the head of this project - thank you for cooperating."[/say]

Catching and releasing the gaze of everyone present, she hoped it was an encouraging look; hoped, too, that these accomplished and highly individual persons wouldn't mind leaving her in charge. It was only for this one event.

[say]"Ah. Well..."[/say]

Ronin isn't sure how else to say this really has gone to hell in a handbasket without admitting just how thoroughly the Greatwood has been overtaken by the void. There's no small pang of sorrow in his chest as he shrugs away his wings, still standing on the outskirts of the violet infused trees and the writhing masses that seem to churn within the dense forestry.

[say]"I hope Phoebe is alright,"[/say] he notes absently; if things had been too bad, he has a feeling Frey would bundle the Nightingale away to safety as usual, but the worry is still present. Stepping closer to Remi, the Nova reaches out to snag his husband by the hand without really thinking about it.

Around them even the Stone Symphony seems touched by lilac chaos, and Ronin feels as though the deeper into the scattered islands they go, the worse things will get. [say]"Right on the doorstep of the Grounds, too."[/say]

Rain hammered against the tiny windows near the ceiling. It had been pouring for the better part of the day and a chill damp radiated through the new Lorekeeper's office despite the crackling fire within the common room hearth and the brazier within the study itself, where embers glowed red and lit up the metal container from within.

Maea noticed none of this. At some point she had drawn a shawl about her shoulders and brought herself a cup of tea. The brew had long since gone cold however, and sat half-empty amidst a sea of letters, reports and scribbled notes that crowded her desk. Deeply engrossed in her work to compile everything she had learned about the Starfall incident and the Void outbreak on Caido, the Loreseeker barely registered how the daylight faded, or when the thunder stopped grumbling over the city beyond. Every now and then she looked up from her work to reference a letter from the pile that Kiada had sent over, or to cross reference a date with the long list of notes she had compiled of her own conversations with various individuals.

Much remained infuriatingly unclear. There were gaps wide as barn doors in the collective knowledge about this whole matter, a realization that only became more obvious the further she progressed in her writing.

Finally, when she couldn't wrest anything else from the correspondence or her own memory, she signed off the report and set it aside with a weary sigh. Leaning back in her seat, Maea rubbed her stiff neck and closed her eyes for a moment. Something rustled in a corner; a book shifted on its shelf on the wall, and thudded loudly to the floor. She didn't look up. The chill in the room had as much to do with spirits of the dead as with the weather, and there was nothing she could do to help them. A subject for an entirely different report; one that would have to wait until some later date.

After a moment of rest, she reached for the quill again and pulled over a scrap of parchment. On it, she jutted down a list of what she still had left to do;

• Write to Lena in Stormbreak, about void sightings
  
• Outline for Void experiments, decide on location
  
• Diplomatic talks? Ball? Talk to Danta
  
• ...
  

It's been a long time since Darkeye came here. The place is no longer the same that it once was, much had taken the Flemings here. Many lives as well as people he called friends. Here, he asked Frey for help to save as many as possible. He found it a good place to worship them and ask them for advice. He placed the sunflower at her shrine, which was slightly overgrown with vines. Not many people came here to pray anymore. The place still had the memory of the loss as well as the Voice. [say]"Greetings Frey, it has been a long time since we have spoken. I ask you to give me some advice on how to proceed. And I have this skull from these bears where I think only you can help me."[/say] He said and hoped that she heard him.

Caden hasn't ventured into the Greatwood since the previous year. Being nomadic means going where the coin flows and the trade takes you, and the woods have only recently been taken beneath a guiding hand that provides improved infrastructure. After his conversations with Kallan and Alys alike Caden has admittedly been wondering if the merchant lifestyle is the right one for him, and if hiding his magic is any better.

As such he's rather distracted walking through the village today, head in the clouds and blue eyes distant and far-away. At least until he bumps into a Fae and trips straight over his own feet as he tries to correct himself, falling sideways into the water surrounding the wooden docks with a strangled yelp and an anti-climactic splash.

Phoebe was not a hard woman to find. So long as you knew how to find the Sidhe Village. Which meant either taking a skyboat or walking in circles in the Greatwood for awhile. But she was making her mark on the place, and by now most residents knew the tall, blonde, willowy woman. On this particular day she wasn't doing anything in particular. A rarity really, always a busy bee. But even she needed rest sometimes.

So the demigoddess sat on her porch in a barely there dress to fight off the heat, a glass of fresh lemonade in her hand. Did she look every inch refreshed despite the oppressive heat? Yes. Perks of her glamour magic. She watched quietly as people went about their business, sipping her drink here and there. The Greatwood might not be the most glamourous place to live, but it was tranquil.

That was when someone approached her stoop. She leaned forward and smiled. [say]"Hello. Is there something I can help you with?"[/say]